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<title>An Ex Fuck Boy, Three Himbos, A Tik Toker, An Exasperated Mom Friend, A Cat Lady And A Tired Old Man Walk In To A Polish Deli by all_hail_the_witcher, Elmers_glue</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636194">An Ex Fuck Boy, Three Himbos, A Tik Toker, An Exasperated Mom Friend, A Cat Lady And A Tired Old Man Walk In To A Polish Deli</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_hail_the_witcher/pseuds/all_hail_the_witcher'>all_hail_the_witcher</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elmers_glue/pseuds/Elmers_glue'>Elmers_glue</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental overdose, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Cat Roach (The Witcher), Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/F, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Heavy Angst, Himbo Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Major Character Injury, Modern Era, Overdose, Parent Vesemir (The Witcher), Past Child Abuse, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Running Away, Sexual Tension, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Ships It, aiden owns a pet store that specializes in cats, aiden wants to get railed by lambert but just a little bit, aidens 45 cats named mittens, all of the kaer morons speak polish, and he uses mobility aids, and make pierogis, buckle up kiddos this ones a Trip, but its referenced not explicit, but like. they dont do anything, canonically, eskels goth and its important that you know that, geralt dresses like an emo hipster, geralt eskel and lambert were orphans in poland and tested on by some soviets, geralt has arthritis, geralts shitty mental health, hes a tired dad, it replaces the trials just go with it, its geralt, jaskier and geralt pine so hard for eachother, jaskier works for panned parenthood because canon says hes pro choice, jaskiers parents are kinda assholes but what else is new, kaer morhen is a polish deli, lamberts weekly sexuality crisis, speaking of dads, thats the child abuse that is referenced, well adoptive parent but Same Thing, yen tries to set geralt up with people</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:28:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_hail_the_witcher/pseuds/all_hail_the_witcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elmers_glue/pseuds/Elmers_glue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So uhhh...you come around here often?” Jaskier asked, leaning on the counter. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing some beautifully tattooed flowers. Geralt tried very hard not to stare at the way the muscles in his forearms flexed when he moved. </p><p>“I work here.” Was the apron not telling enough? Shit, was there flour on his apron? On his face? </p><p>Jaskier laughed. It was light and musical and sounded like little bells. It sent goosebumps across his arms. He wanted Jaskier to do it again. “I know! I just wanted to start some conversation!”</p><p>Conversation? As in...talking? What was he supposed to say? He was awful at talking to people that weren’t his brothers. Or Vesemir. Or Yen. Or Ciri. </p><p> </p><p>or: vesemir, geralt, eskel, and lambert are all polish immigrants who own a deli shop. jaskier and yen work for planned parenthood. aiden owns a pet store. they're all dense and there is enough mutual pining for everyone to have a second helping. *glances at fic* ....maybe even a third helping.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>179</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Raindrops on Pierogis and Knives on Kittens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello hello, welcome to this au. </p><p>essentially kaer moron is like one of those little basement polish deli shop things that exist on the lower east side? like in the below street level unit. all of the kaer morons speak polish. aiden owns a pet store in the street level unit. takes place in nyc.  </p><p>neither of us actually speak polish so anything thats bolded is actually said in polish. there are some polish swear words in there tho that im like pretty sure are accurate ?? they are:</p><p>kurwa: essentially means fuck<br/>dupek: asshole<br/>spierdalaj: fuck off</p><p>if you do happen to speak polish and know that these are not correct, please let me know</p><p>enjoy your stay at the kaer morhen polish deli, there's enough mutual pining to go around :) -saph and katya</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Lambert if you bring one more fucking rugalagh to that man I’m going to drown you in the borscht.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert, who had tried (and failed) to sneak in the kitchen door of the Kaer Morhen Polish Deli without anyone noticing, flipped Eskel off before walking over to the oven. So what if he had been visiting the owner of the cute pet store upstairs? He was still getting his work done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously Lambert. Just because you’re in love with Aiden doesn’t mean you can give him free shit.” Geralt said from where he was chopping onions for the pierogies. He had already chopped seven and hadn’t cried once. The fucking bastard. “He can come down here and pay for it himself like everyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not in love with him. He’s just a friend.” This had been a daily argument every day since Aiden had started renting the street level storefront from Vesemir two years ago for his pet store, Kittens &amp; Things. “And straight. I’m straight. We’re both straight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spierdalaj.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Lambert waved his hands around in a very not-straight fashion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah and I’m the Queen of England.” Eskel dodged the balled up dish cloth that Lambert threw at his head. Seriously though, what was that kid trying to pull? He’d seen circles straighter than his younger brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He also has a pride pin.” Geralt picked up the cloth from where it had landed next to him. “Don’t throw shit, I’m making the pierogies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not making </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re chopping </span>
  <em>
    <span>onions</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last I checked there’s onions in pierogies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t know, I don’t make them </span>
  <em>
    <span>dupek</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Lambert rolled his eyes. His specialty at the deli were the desserts, the pierogies were Geralt’s domain and had been since he was 20. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut it or I’ll put you on potato peeling duty again.” Geralt reached for another onion from the pile. </span>
</p><p><span>“</span><em><span>You wouldn’t</span></em> <em><span>dare</span></em><span>.” Lambert scowled the rugelach dough he was rolling out. “Do you want a repeat of the great onion war of 2006?”</span></p><p>
  <span>“If there’s a repeat of that ever again you both will be doing nothing but peeling potatoes for weeks.” Vesemir walked in from the front where he had been finishing cleaning the tables and chairs. “I am not picking out onions from the ceiling again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush up and get to work Lambert,” Vesemir interrupted. It was far too early for Lambert’s antics. “We open in just over an hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Aiden should be down in-” Eskel checked his watch. “Roughly five minutes. If I see any more food missing I will put horseradish in your sock drawer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert threw down his completed rugelach on the tray with more force than necessary. “I don’t even give it to him for free! He pays me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel scoffed. “With what? Pick up lines?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Spierdalaj</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eskel.” Lambert resisted the urge to throw dish cloth at him.  “He has funny jokes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They aren’t that funny, you just think he’s hot.” Geralt responded from the counter. He was nearly done with the onions and was getting ready to sauté them. Usually he would have made today’s filling the night before, but after nearly falling twice after they had closed, Eskel had ordered him home with a stern look. He stood up and grabbed his cane, and walked over to the fridge to get butter. The butter was not in the fridge. He sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the butter? I need to saute these onions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Eskel walked over and plunked down the butter next to the stove top. “Are you sure you don't want me to do that for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” Geralt picked up the butter, measured what he needed, and put it in the pot that Eskel had grabbed for him. He moved the pan to the stovetop, turned on the heat and began dumping in the onions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel passed him a wooden spoon. “I’m going to get set up in the front. Shout if you need anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt shifted his cane as he began to stir the onions. Usually standing and sautéing them put too much stress on his knees so he had either Eskel or Vesemir do it for him, but his arthritis was better than usual today so he decided to do it himself. Still, despite his complaints, his brothers and Vesemir insisted that at least one of them be around when he was using the stove in case he got tired so he wouldn’t hurt himself. It was annoying, but he tolerated it because he knew it was coming from a place of love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert, however, was nowhere to be seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert, where are you?” Geralt called, looking around for his youngest brother, who should have been putting his last batch of rugelach in the oven and cleaning up his mess of a station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door to the kitchen slammed open, and Geralt turned to see Aiden, who was holding a tiny tabby kitten. Right on time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>“Aiden’s here!”</strong> Geralt yelled, and Lambert ran in from the front. Predictable. He wouldn’t come for his brother but he’d come for his crush. He was holding a couple of rugalagh, and Geralt heard Eskel mutter something about horseradish and consequences from the front.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh..hello.” Lambert handed the plate over to Aiden, who took it with the arm he wasn’t holding the cat with. As if the man needed any more of Lambert’s desserts. He’d probably given him at least a thousand over the last two years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These look as delicious as the last ones! Thank you!” Aiden grinned widely, and Lambert found himself smiling back at him. “As for your payment… you may pet Lambert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Why would he pet </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Why would Aiden even suggest such a thing? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The cat!” Aiden held the kitten out to Lambert. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert’s jaw dropped, and Geralt tried not to laugh at the look of shock on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You named the cat after me?” Something swelled in Lambert’s chest and he did his best to ignore it. It was perfectly normal for a man to name a cat after his bro. Perfectly normal. Nothing weird to see there, thank you </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden looked at the floor, and shrugged. Lambert studiously ignored the slight pink that had colored his cheeks. This was all normal. “Yes..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” Lambert hesitantly reached his right hand out to pet Lambert the cat. The cat’s fur was nearly the same color as his hair. “I thought you named them all Mittens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All except this one! This little bastard bit me when I first met him, and I thought of you.” Ah so, not because of the hair then. Lambert frowned, his hair was his best feature. Maybe he should invest in more products, maybe Aiden would notice it then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed though and continued to pet the cat, trying to remember which Walgreens had the biggest assortment of hair products. Was it the one on 2nd or 3rd? Fuck, he couldn’t remember. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden winked (winked!), and held the cat out to Lambert. “You can hold him if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt, who had been watching the encounter out of the corner of his eye tried to stifle his laughter as he watched Lambert awkwardly take the cat from Aiden. Those two were so hopeless. From what he could see, Lambert’s face was bright red and Aiden was looking at him like he had hung the moon and stars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert looked down at the cat, panicking slightly. Lambert the cat had very soft fur (maybe he did take after his namesake after all) and he was sniffing his hand. Lambert very much wanted to let go of the cat but he didn't want Aiden to leave yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck what should he say, what should he say? “So- uh- how’s the shop going?” Bingo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! It’s going great!” Aiden exclaimed excitedly. “I just got a new litter in and there were four kittens and they’re so cute! You should come up and visit them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-uh okay.” Lambert agreed, trying to stroke Lambert the cat in a way that looked like this was not the first cat he had held. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert! We open in 20 minutes!” Eskel yelled from the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kurwa</span>
  </em>
  <span>.. uh.. Here.” Lambert held the cat out to Aiden, who carefully took it back while holding the rugalagh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you again, Lam.” Aiden smiled softly before darting up the concrete stairs to his shop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert stood in shock as he watched Aiden leave the kitchen. Geralt started wheezing and nearly doubled over in laughter, leaning on the counter for more support.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up Geralt!” Lambert’s face was still bright red somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lam</span>
  </em>
  <span>..” Geralt couldn’t stop laughing, when would his brother get it through his dense head? “Totally straight. Just friends. Got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up Geralt, or I’ll cover your cane in My Little Pony stickers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do that and I’ll put you on potato duty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Spierdalaj</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Lambert flipped Geralt off and started to walk out of the kitchen. He really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> needed to come up with better comebacks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert! Get back here! I need you to help me finish these!” Geralt called. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert stopped but didn't turn around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you go out there now Eskel’s gonna lecture you on giving away food again.” It was a shitty reason for Lambert to help him, but hopefully it would work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert groaned loudly but spun around. “You’re lucky you’re right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thank fuck. “Grab the bowl of potato and the farmer's cheese out of the fridge and dump it in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert did, and had rolled out the dough paper thin at Geralt’s instruction, not even complaining once, before he spoke again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you thinking from all the way over here,” Lambert said, pushing the rolling pin over the dough again. No wonder Geralt’s arms were so jacked, this was hard work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt gave the pot of filling one final stir. “You really didn’t see his pride pin?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh</span>
  <em>
    <span> fuck off</span>
  </em>
  <span> with that already.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was right on his jacket!” Sometimes Geralt couldn’t believe Lambert’s stupidity. “Move this to the counter and prep the big pot to boil them in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert, thankfully, followed his instructions. “Maybe you’re seeing things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I am then we’re really in trouble.” Geralt eased himself back down onto his stool, leaned his cane against the counter next to him and reached for the worn circular cookie cutter to cut out the dough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert banged the big pot onto the stove. Pride pin his </span>
  <em>
    <span>ass</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Aiden was straight! He got the water boiling and went to retrieve the first batch of finished pierogies from Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a rainbow one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert stopped putting the finished pierogies onto the tray. “A rainbow one what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The pin.” The look on Geralt’s face was teasing. Lambert wanted to smack it off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know this is highly unfair.” He unceremoniously dumped six pierogies into the boiling water and grabbed the spider from the utensil jar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two are teasing me about a guy I don’t even like when neither of you like people!” He waived the spider around dramatically. Geralt didn't even turn around to look at him, the fucker. “The teasing is one sided! I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> stand for it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eskel’s not interested in relationships like that,” Geralt said, unhelpfully. “Are you watching those?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Yes.” Lambert had, in fact, not been watching the pierogies. He turned them over a few times and pulled them out of the water. “And I know that Eskel’s not into that. I was talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you ‘hmm’ me.” Lambert put another six pierogies into the pot and actually set the timer this time. “Maybe it’s time I ask Yen to bring over another one of her coworkers. She needs to set you up with someone again and I need to tease you about someone so you can have a taste of your own damn medicine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt whipped around and glared at Lambert. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something like “absolutely not” or “that's pointless because no one could ever love me” but he was blissfully cut off by Eskel shouting from the front that they were opening. And a good thing too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert pulled the pierogies out of the water and dumped in the next batch quickly. As soon as he was done, he was texting Yen. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“And why can’t you do the front counter?” Geralt looked up from the mountain of potatoes he was peeling to Lambert, who was supposed to be running the register, but was instead subtly trying (and failing) to style his hair in the reflection of some of the pots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to see Aiden’s cats. It’s his lunch break.” Lambert halfheartedly tried to brush some of the flour off of his dark green apron and took his phone out to check the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A date then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Spierdalaj</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m not fucking gay.” Yes, because straight men fixed their hair in the reflection of a pot to go visit their bro and his cats, one of which was named after said supposed straight man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Geralt sighed, still half ignoring Lambert in favor of peeling his potatoes. “And where’s Eskel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s at the bank getting change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “And Vesemir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert shrugged. “Someone has to cook.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed again, and stood up, grabbed his cane and walked to the front. Usually he avoided working at the counter, especially during the lunch rush, because it was hard to quickly fill orders while using his forearm crutches. And then there was the fact that people would stare and ask him invasive questions about it. Luckily for Lambert though (and his date), the counter was significantly easier to work on days like today when his pain was better and he opted to use his cane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun on your date,” Geralt called, sitting down on the stool in front of the register. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a date. Have fun on your shift!” Lambert shouted far too happily as he ran out the back door, leaving Geralt alone at the register. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cursed out Lambert under his breath as he realized that Lambert had dumped counter duty on him just before the lunch rush. He grit his teeth and pushed through the blur of taking orders and shouting them back to Vesemir, occasionally grabbing something from one of the cases, and handing people their food. Talking to the customers was not his strong suit but thankfully the rush allowed him to move through orders quickly and not have to talk to each customer for long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rush was beginning to die down when it occurred to Geralt that Eskel should have been back from the bank by now and there was no way that it should be taking Lambert this long to pet a cat. He pulled out his phone to text them, beginning to think that they were playing some kind of joke on him, when the bell on the door dinged again. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, putting on his best customer service smile (which honestly wasn’t much more than a slightly pained looking grimace) before he saw the long dark hair, navy pencil skirt and crisp white button down shirt. His shoulders relaxed and the shadow of a real smile tugged at his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Geralt.” Her hot pink heels clicked against the floor, and her brightly colored outfit stood out against the plain decor of the deli. She smiled at him and strode purposefully to the counter, a cloud of lilacs and gooseberries following in her wake. It was only then when Geralt realized someone was with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right on time.” Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off the man. He was looking around sheepishly, clearly out of his element. Geralt had never seen someone wear such an attention commanding outfit before. His pants were bright blue and his shirt was white but it was covered in….were those pink and blue butterflies? Yes, they were. And he turned to look at Geralt and oh my god he was smiling and those stupid butterflies made his blue eyes pop. He was glad he was sitting down otherwise he would have definitely fallen over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello? Earth to Geralt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt blinked. Right, Yen was there. Yen needed food. Ignore butterfly shirt man. Act natural.  “Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yen rolled her eyes. “I need some pierogies for Jaskier and I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier. Butterfly shirt man’s name was Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” the man, Jaskier, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> that was a nice name, said, waving awkwardly. Even his voice matched his shirt, bright and cheery and in such contrast to Geralt’s own gravelly tone. “You have a lovely accent, darling.” Lovely? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darling</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stared in dumbfounded shock before narrowing his eyes slightly. “Hmm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier gave him another bright smile and ran his hand through his soft brown hair, messing it up perfectly. Geralt tried his best to ignore him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your usual?” He asked, forcing himself to look at the register instead of Jaskier. His heartbeat promptly began speeding up. What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What was happening to him? He had been fine earlier. Maybe something was going wrong with his meds, but his leg wasn’t bothering him any more than usual, so that couldn’t be it. What else could it be? His hands felt shaky as he put in the order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” She looked at Jaskier, who was clearly overwhelmed. “Make it two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier</span>
  </em>
  <span> was going to be eating </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> food? What if he didn’t like it? Had he even had pierogies before? “He’s never had them before. If he hates them…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure I’ll like them.” Geralt’s gaze snapped involuntarily to Jaskier. Were his eyes twinkling? No, it had to be a trick of the light. “It certainly smells good in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s mind went blank for a moment as he stared at Jaskier. “Hmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yen rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by her phone ringing. She pursed her red lips together, somehow managing to not smear her lipstick, as she looked at the caller ID. “Sorry boys, I need to take this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier barely nodded in acknowledgement and hardly seemed to notice as she walked over to the front corner of the shop. His brilliant blue eyes were thoughtfully fixed on Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt, overcome with the sudden urge to escape Jaskier’s gaze, turned and shouted the order over his shoulder to Vesemir. <strong>“Two of Yen’s usual!”</strong></span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>“Ready in five!”</strong> Vesemir shouted back. The sizzle of butter in the frying pan was familiar and Geralt wanted more than anything to be the one standing over the stove frying the pierogies. Pierogies wouldn’t smile at him and call him </span>
  <em>
    <span>darling</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So uhhh...you come around here often?” Jaskier asked, leaning on the counter. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing some beautifully tattooed flowers. Geralt tried very hard not to stare at the way the muscles in his forearms flexed when he moved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I work here.” Was the apron not telling enough? Shit, was there flour on his apron? On his </span>
  <em>
    <span>face</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier laughed. It was light and musical and sounded like little bells. It sent goosebumps across his arms. He wanted Jaskier to do it again. “I know! I just wanted to start some conversation!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Conversation? As in...talking? What was he supposed to say? He was awful at talking to people that weren’t his brothers. Or Vesemir. Or Yen. Or Ciri. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully he was saved from the horror of conversing with Jaskier by Yen’s heels clicking back across the floor. Her lips were drawn into a tight line and her eyes were hard set. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay?” Geralt asked, snapping back to attention as he turned the credit card machine at the register so Yen could pay for the pierogies. He didn’t miss the way that Jaskier tried to pull out his own card before Yen swatted him away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, it was just about a meeting for a case, but it's very last minute so I don’t know the details.” Yen worked at the Planned Parenthood around the corner as a Senior Project Specialist. She took her job very seriously. “I gotta run though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. What about your pierogies?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please don’t leave me here with Jaskier.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier will bring them back to the office for us,” she said, pulling a few singles out of her purse and throwing them in the tip jar. “I really have to run though, you boys get to know each other. I’ll see you tomorrow, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell above the door rang again and she was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier drummed his long fingers against the counter. There was a ring on nearly every one of his fingers and the stones in each of them caught the fluorescent lights, sending little rainbows across the shop. Geralt couldn’t look away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So uhhh… how long have you worked here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt continued to stare at the rainbows Jaskier’s rings were casting onto the countertop. “Since I was seventeen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, family business then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Geralt traced his finger over one of the rainbows. “My...adopted father owns it. My brothers and I work here.” He had never once viewed Vesemir as his adopted father. From the moment the three of them had stumbled into the shop twenty two years ago he had been the only father figure Geralt had ever known. But Jaskier didn’t need to know that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And do you make any of this wonderfully smelling food?” Jaskier smiled and Geralt almost felt like he was going to pass out. What was wrong with him? It must have been the new meds he was on. Certainly not the fact that Jaskier had just said his food smelled good. Nope, definitely not that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pierogies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh,” Jaskier leaned back. Did he look impressed or was Geralt just imagining things? “So it’ll be your fault then if I don’t like whatever Yennefer ordered for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um…” Geralt looked down. Did he really think he wasn’t going to like it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t worry darling, I was only joking!” Jaskier reached out a hand as if to touch Geralt’s but paused midair. “If they taste even half as good as Yennefer claims I’m sure they’ll be simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>divine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And I can tell you put a lot of love into them if your impressive arm muscles are anything to go by. It must take a lot of strength to roll out all that dough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt raised his gaze to look at Jaskier’s face, hardly believing what he had just heard. Did he just...compliment his physique? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier winked, confirming Geralt’s suspicions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, uhh…” Where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Vesemir? It did not take this long to fry two orders of pierogies. “You work with Yen then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes!” Jaskier’s eyes somehow became brighter if that was even possible. “I’m a Sexuality Educator, so I work with the little ones and oh they’re just precious! It should be a chore but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt found Jaskier’s voice fading into a dull lull as he stared at the man in front of him. He waved his hands around dramatically as he spoke, castine more rainbows all over the shop. His erratic hand movements nearly flung his brown leather briefcase from his shoulder many times, but Jaskier’s quick, delicate fingers managed to catch it each time. With every movement Geralt caught a whiff of what could only be Jaskier’s cologne. Cloves and...was that orange? It tickled his nose, but it was comforting, just like the smell of sautéing butter and onions. He tried to mentally catalogue the scent, along with the way Jaskier’s nose curved and the faint spray of freckles that dotted his cheekbones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Order up,” Vesemir said, coming out of the kitchen holding two black plastic take-out containers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt was startled out of his thoughts and jumped at Vesemir’s voice, accidentally knocking his cane over with his leg. He froze, preparing himself for the sad, pitiful stare that usually accompanied customers seeing his mobility aids, as Vesemir walked around the counter to retrieve it for him, since it had rolled across the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier, naturally, had noticed it and picked it up. It was a simple black cane with a few carvings in the painted wood that Vesemir had done himself, a fairly mundane object, but seeing it in Jaskier’s hands felt so wrong that he couldn’t help but shudder. He started to reach out to take it from him, but Jaskier handed it to Vesemir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dropped this!” Jaskier said brightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir nodded his thanks and took the cane from Jaskier. Geralt immediately let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding once the cane was out of Jaskier’s hands. Only his family were allowed to touch his mobility aids, not strangers, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> not Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir leaned the cane against the counter within Geralt’s reach and set Jaskier and Yen’s food on the counter, patted him on the shoulder firmly and went to help the next customer who had somehow entered the store without Geralt noticing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt mentally prepared himself for the typical barrage of questions from Jaskier. He seemed to be of the nosy sort, and Geralt had dealt with enough people like him who would pester him with stupid questions to be able to answer them with just enough detail to stop their chatter. Jaskier, however, turned to him with a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that your adopted father?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded, reaching for a paper bag from under the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The detail on his cane was just lovely, do you know if it was hand carved?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt froze, food halfway in the bag. Jaskier didn’t know. He didn’t think the cane was his. That must be why he had been being so nice to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, no matter then,” Jaskier said, taking the food bag that Geralt slid across the counter to him in what felt like slow motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for the food,” Jaskier handed what looked to be a dollar bill to Geralt. “That’s for you, darling. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.” He winked again and strode out of the shop, whistling carelessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked down at the bill in his hand, about to throw it in the tip jar when he saw a note scribbled on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was your mother a beaver? Cause damn! *finger guns*</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed. His mother was actually a heartless bitch who had abandoned him on the side of the road when he was a toddler. But he supposed the sentiment was nice. He tucked the bill into his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir was helping the next customer and there was no one else in the shop so Geralt had a few moments alone with his thoughts. He sighed, the memory of Jaskier’s smile entering his head. Of course. Jaskier had been flirting with him, and Geralt had </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wasn’t even into men. He was straight. He couldn’t be into men. Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, it was just that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> be. There was </span>
  <em>
    <span>no way</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was into men. Geralt felt sick and he clutched as his stomach involuntarily, swallowing hard. There was no way he was gay. He couldn’t be. He liked women, he had gone out with women and enjoyed it, there was no way he could be into men. But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been years since he had gone out with a woman... The last person he dated was Yen, and they found that two months into the relationship they just didn’t have the spark they had initially thought they had. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He couldn’t be gay. He really couldn’t. He wasn’t into men. He was just confused by Jaskier’s presence. The nervousness must have been from his meds. That was the only reasonable explanation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, could you ring her up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s head snapped up at the sound of Vesemir’s voice and he took a few deep breaths to center himself. He was fine, it was just his meds. He rang the woman up quickly and waited until she left the shop before all but slamming his head down on the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright Geralt?” Vesemir asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. He could stay here for one more minute and then he needed to get back to work. It was just his meds, afterall. And he had worked though far worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted his head after a few more deep breaths, just before the bell rang again, and promptly threw himself back into work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Try as he might though, the dollar bill from Jaskier with the stupid pickup line on it seemed to burn a hole in his pocket for the rest of the day. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. All Hail The Watcher(s)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>eskel, lambert, yennefer and aiden spy on geralt and jaskier</p><p>lambert is oblivious. aiden is oblivious but also thirsty.</p><p>jaskier is a bisexual disaster with a houseplant named greg</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>just forget that its been a whole month since we've updated </p><p>things said in polish are bolded!</p><p>if you can find the 2 unsolved and 2 show quotes in here you have my utmost respect</p><p>and if you can decipher geralts texts you get a gold medal</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For once, everything was going to plan. Lambert had pulled up the grainy security feed on his laptop, popcorn had been pulled out of... </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Aiden was sitting on Lambert’s lap, Eskel was on the floor with a kitten, and Yennefer had just gone off screen and up the stairs to Aiden’s shop. Now all the guy who Yennefer had brought with her had to do was flirt with Geralt and all Geralt had to do was not knock him out for doing so. Should be pretty easy, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, if Geralt’s previous track record with dating was anything to go by, it would be anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there was the fact that Yennefer had brought a guy. James? Justin? Julian? Lambert couldn't remember, but the point was that he was definitely a </span>
  <em>
    <span>guy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And Geralt had not dated men before. At least Lambert thought he hadn’t. But his brother was an enigma wrapped in pierogi dough so really anything was possible. As long as it was at least mildly interesting and made Geralt squirm a little. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to get back at Geralt for all those comments about Aiden yesterday after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, the security cameras, in all their shitty early 2000s glory, were video only so it was anyone’s guess as to what they were saying. But body language was easy enough to read, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is worse than a soap opera,” Eskel muttered, barely looking at the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How would you know?” Lambert flicked a cat treat at him. “You’re not even watching!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have to watch to know that Geralt’s probably shooting daggers at the guy and saying as few words as humanly possible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now wait a second,” Aiden scooped up Mittens 45? 37? and deposited him into his lap. The cat clawed at his jeans lightly and Aiden leaned forward to pull him off. Lambert purposefully did not at all imagine the way the ends of his wavy hair fell in front of his warm brown eyes, the same color as the chocolate he melted when he made babkas….he hadn’t been able to think about anyone but Aiden while making babkas for almost two years. His ridiculous brothers would say this was a problem, Lambert thought it was a treat. He especially looked forward to making babkas now, despite the finicky dough. Aiden’s eyes were really to die for. “If you knew that Geralt was going to have the same reaction as pretty much every other time you’ve tried to set  him up, why are we wasting our time? Particularly me, because I closed my shop for this?”</span>
</p><p><span>Lambert looked away from the screen where Justin? Jake? was gesturing wildly and Geralt was angrily slamming buttons on the register. He had a witty and well thought out comeback about how Geralt was a teasing bitch that deserved this but it died on his lips as soon as Aiden turned his goddamn molten chocolate eyes on him. All Lambert could think about was babka batter. Fuck. Fuck, </span><em><span>fuck, FUCK!</span></em> <em><span>Say something! Anything! You dolt! </span></em></p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden stopped petting his cat to stare at Lambert, his nose scrunching up like one of his cute little kittens. Eskel groaned so loudly the cat on his lap jumped. Clearly these two needed some good old fashioned pop culture lessons. Well, Eskel was hopeless but there might still be hope for Aiden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough with the vine references.” Yennefer said as she walked into the apartment and sat on the swivel chair next to Eskel. Mittens 23 sat on her lap almost immediately. “Aiden, the reason we are doing this again is because I’ve tried to set Geralt up with every woman I work with who’s available, and I’ve had no luck. This is my last resort, and I honestly think it looks promising, whether they are romantically together or not. Geralt could use a few more friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert threw up his arms trying very hard not to push Aiden off of his lap with his dramatics. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Man</span>
  </em>
  <span> this was an ab workout. “And what do you call us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer sighed. Why she still even bothered with these idiots was still a mystery to her. Talking sense into them was like trying to herd cats, and she would know, Aiden has made her do that once. “You and Eskel are his brothers. Aiden is a half step below a work friend and I’m his ex sort of girlfriend. We’re all required to tolerate him.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Men</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She would never understand them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert and Eskel looked like they were about to protest her statement but thankfully Aiden cut them off. And hopefully, Yennefer thought, with their tiny brains, they would forget what she had said about them being required to tolerate Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt’s really eyeing him. Has that happened before?” Aiden asked. He was paying the most attention to the screen, partly because he wanted to see that he wasn’t wasting his time, and partly because he Lambert had accidentally gotten him invested in Geralt’s love life. But if he was asked, he’d blame his investment on his love of Hallmark movies. Even if he was wasting his time though he got to sit on Lambert’s lap which was nothing short of an enthralling experience. Aiden would allow all the chaotic plots Lambert, Yennefer, and Eskel could think of to get Geralt a partner if it meant he could sit on Lambert’s lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before everyone showed up, he had cranked up the AC because he knew how much Lambert hated the cold and since Aiden was a human heater, Lambert wouldn’t want him to get off his lap. Clearly it had been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fantastic</span>
  </em>
  <span> plan with an </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> good payoff considering he was, after all, sitting in Lambert’s lap. Aiden had grown much bolder with his flirting over the last few months. From the pickup lines each morning that were growing steadily more suggestive, to naming a cat after him to even dragging him to his apartment 15 blocks away to change a lightbulb. At 5am on a Saturday. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> he </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically</span>
  </em>
  <span> could have reached it himself if he had stood on the counter, but where was the fun in that? And it had been worth it just to see Lambert’s adorable bedhead and his gruff morning voice. He’d expected Lambert to honestly ask him out right then and there, after all he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> put on his tightest white tshirt and favorite gray sweatpants so Lambert could clearly see what his ruffled yet adorably sleepy appearance had been doing to him, but the fucking man must really </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> enjoy playing hard to get because he’d gotten no response except a bro hug. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A bro hug.</span>
  </em>
  <span> While he’d been wearing his gray sweatpants. Aiden had been so thrown that he had very briefly entertained the thought that Lambert may think he was straight. And then had quickly dismissed it because not only did he have a very obvious pride pin on his jean jacket, but he had also invited Lambert to pride with him for two years now. Nope, he was just playing hard to get. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Aiden </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> say he always liked a challenge. He leaned back against Lambert’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. By this time he’s normally made an excuse and gone back to the kitchen. Speaking of, is Vesemir on this? Because pierogies don’t normally take this much time to fry.” Eskel asked, watching the screen more closely so he could guess what was happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is. He said, and I quote: ‘Do what you must, as long as no onions are thrown.’” Lambert responded, as he tried to figure out where to put his hands because Aiden had moved back so his back was against Lambert’s chest. It took all of his concentration to keep his heart from speeding up. And even that wasn’t enough. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is fine, everything is fine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he kept repeating to himself</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Just two dudes sitting on the floor of a pet shop. Together. In each other's laps. Nothing interesting to see here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden could feel Lambert’s heartbeat faster, and he leaned back against Lambert’s chest a bit more. Why not push his luck? Maybe today was his lucky day. “You’re surprisingly comfortable, Lam.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off.” Lambert suppressed the urge to scream. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was Aiden flirting with him or some shit? No, he couldn’t be. Aiden was straight, and they were just bros being bros.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave you a compliment, and you insult me? I will not stand for this! If I wasn’t so comfortable I’d get off and leave you to face how cold it is in here.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please, please don't push me off Lambert. I love being your human blanket and we should do this more often. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you keep it so cold in here anyway? It’s like the fucking-”</span>
</p><p><span>“Some of us are trying to pay attention, Lambert.” Yennefer interrupted. And quite thankfully too. Aiden was not about to have his elaborate AC scene exposed, thank you </span><em><span>very</span></em> <em><span>much</span></em><span>. “Geralt looks like he’s having a crisis, I thought you’d enjoy watching this...trainwreck.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“I can’t see the screen. Aiden’s blocking my view.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could ask him to get off your lap.” Eskel suggested, purposefully not looking at Lambert. If he did he would never be able to say the next part with a straight face. </span>
  <b>“But I know you won’t because you like him and you’re enjoying this, you dense prick.”</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert ignored his comment and prayed that Aiden wouldn’t turn around when he felt his cheeks start to heat up. Aiden though, the blasted idiot, glanced over his shoulder at Lambert. And, almost as if he somehow knew what Eskel had said, gave him the most dazzling, movie star worthy smile and said, “Lambert loves me too much to ask me to move.” </span>
</p><p><em><span>Fucking hell.</span></em><span> “I hate you.” Lambert was going to die. He was going to keel over and die if Aiden continued to smile at him like that. But that wasn’t a gay</span> <span>thing, it was a homies being bros thing. Obviously. </span></p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” Aiden smiled even wider than before and was treated to Lambert’s cheeks flushing even further, as if that were at all possible. He looked so completely and utterly smitten and their faces were so close he caught an intoxicating whiff of Lambert’s Old Spice mixed with his latest tropical scented hair product. Aiden was tempted to kiss him right then and there because of just how delicious he smelled. He could eat him right up, just like one of his desserts. Unfortunately, Eskel and Yennefer were there so he couldn’t. Drat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, both of you.” Eskel said, forgetting the Hallmark worthy spectacle next to him as he watched the grainy footage closely. Things were clearly getting more intense in the shop. Vesemir had just come out of the kitchen with his food and Jaskier probably realised his window of opportunity was closing. It looked like he had opened his mouth to say something when, oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Holy shit, did Geralt’s cane fall?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer nodded and moved closer to see what was happening better. “Oh god, Jaskier’s trying to give it to Vesemir. I didn’t realize he was that dumb.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit. Geralt’s not gonna take that well. He hates it when people who aren’t us touch his mobility aids. I don’t blame him, but that’s a very good way to get him pissed.” Eskel knew, even without the shitty footage, that Geralt had tensed up as he did whenever anyone tried to touch his mobility aids or gave him a sad look. His self esteem wasn’t good even on the best day, so he could only imagine what would happen now when someone was trying to flirt with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t look mad though.” Aiden remarked, now paying attention to the screen rather than Lambert’s lips. “He’s just sort of going along with it. Maybe that’s a good sign?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Lambert agreed, trying to watch over Aiden’s shoulder. “He’s just been doing all his work as usual, and I can’t tell if this has been a success or a failure.” It seemed that Geralt had on his standard Customer Service Frown, as they all liked to call it. Curse him and his impossible to read emotions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Jaskier’s writing something down on a bill, and I’d bet it’s his number, so we’ll see.” Yennefer said, watching as Jaskier handed Geralt the dollar bill and left. “Shit, I need to make it back to work before Jaskier so he doesn't think somethings up. I’ll text you guys if anything happens.” Her heels clicked across the floor and she sprinted out of the shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So a success then?” Aiden asked, still not moving from Lambert’s lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Thank fuck.” Lambert cringed when he saw Geralt stare blankly into space as a woman approached the counter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He hoped Geralt was okay. He just wanted to set him up, not be the cause of a breakdown. They needed to get back downstairs as soon as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel got up and turned the feed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well!” Aiden clapped and got off Lambert’s lap. “He looks like he’s having a sexuality crisis!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Lambert distantly agreed, already missing how warm he was when Aiden was on his lap. It was cold in the shop, and despite Lambert’s constant begging for him to turn up the heat, Aiden refused. He was almost convinced Aiden did it on purpose to piss him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go relieve Geralt of counter duty,” Eskel said, looking pointedly at Lambert. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Lambert stood up, brushing the cat hair off of his clothes. “You go first, it’ll look suspicious if we go down at the same time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel nodded and all but bolted from Aiden’s shop. Lambert sighed. Hopefully they hadn’t fucked up too bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well mister,” Aiden said, turning the sign on his door to open and crossing, crossing his arms. “As long as you’re staying here for a bit, I have some cat food that needs shelving.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky we’re bros.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p><span>Jaskier slammed the door to Yennefer’s apartment open. She looked up at him from her phone, completely unimpressed. The key she had given him was for </span><em><span>emergencies</span></em> <em><span>only,</span></em><span> and considering that he wasn’t on fire or bleeding out, she had no time to deal with his antics. </span></p><p>
  <span>“What is so urgent that you needed to nearly break my door down?” Yennefer asked, looking back down at her phone. “If your houseplant died again I really don't have the time to help you bury him. Last time was a special exception.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Yen!” Jaskier yelled, ignoring her comment about his houseplant (but Greg was doing just fine, thank you very much). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer looked up again, scrutinizing Jaskier’s appearance. He didn’t seem to be upset about another dead houseplant, but something was clearly up. He wasn't wearing shoes, for starters and one of his socks was missing. His shirt was untucked and somehow buttoned incorrectly? She half expected a bird to fly out of his hair, it was such a mess. He looked every part the textbook definition of a bisexual disaster. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why the hell is he….?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yennefer thought, trying to recall if anything would have put him in such a state of romantic distress when she remembered that it had, in fact, only just been that afternoon that they had tried to set Jaskier up with Geralt at the deli. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh….oh no.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it this time?” Yennefer said, trying her best to look uninterested as she texted Lambert. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yen: I think the plan is working...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t tell me he’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Jaskier cried, collapsing on the couch next to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lambert: what makes you think that</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe I did.” Yennefer suppressed the urge to smile as she began voice recording Jaskier’s freak out. Lambert, the dense little shit, wouldn’t believe her unless she gave him some kind of irrefutable proof. It was, in her opinion, ridiculous, but this was the same guy who didn't realize he was in love with the owner of a certain pet store so, she supposed it was about par for the course. She really needed to get some better friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t! You have betrayed me! I panicked and gave him finger guns Yen, finger guns! They weren’t even actual finger guns! I wrote it down on a dollar bill! I literally wrote </span>
  <em>
    <span>asterisk finger guns asterisk</span>
  </em>
  <span> like some kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>moron</span>
  </em>
  <span>! And you’re not even listening to my plight!” Jaskier flopped dramatically on the couch next to her. “Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> best friend in the whole wide world has just blown his chances with only the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hottest</span>
  </em>
  <span> man Manhattan has to offer, and you can’t spare me a second glance! Greg would give me more attention than you are right now Yennefer!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m paying attention.” Yennefer ended the voice memo and sent it to Lambert, put her phone down, and turned to Jaskier, trying not to laugh at his failed flirting tactics. “You...wrote ‘finger guns’ on a dollar bill?” Was that really the best he had been able to come up with? Yennefer put her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YES!” Jaskier groaned, throwing his hand over his eyes as he fell backwards into Yennefer’s lap. “I used the worst pickup lines ever, but at least he blushed once! The rest? He just looked confused! I’m done for! I’ve lost my edge! You might as well just put me out of my misery so I don't die a miserable old cat lady named Doris!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He blushed? Geralt doesn’t blush.” Damn the fucking black and white grainy security feed. They had really missed vital information.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well he did! I’m sure of it! Yen, it was…” He waved his hand around in the air for dramatic effect before stroking Yennefer’s cheek with a fond look in his eyes. “Beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer smacked his hand away and shoved him off her lap. “Get off of me you twit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier seemed unbothered in his lovestruck state. “Do you think I stand a chance Yen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer sighed, still trying to feign disinterest. This plan </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to work, </span>
  <em>
    <span>damnit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.“I mean probably. In all the years I’ve known Geralt I’ve never seen him blush so that's a definite accomplishment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently content with that assessment, Jaskier stared off into oblivion for several long, blessedly silent minutes. As much as she loved Jaskier and as much as she wanted him to get with Geralt, she had forgotten just how obnoxious his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Golly Gee I’m So In Love</span>
  </em>
  <span> ramblings could be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence, tragically, was fleeting around Jaskier. And now it was time for the strange questions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s for the greater good Yen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is his hair natural?”</span>
</p><p><span>This time, Yennefer looked down at him. Of all the questions she had been expecting, </span><em><span>that</span></em><span> had </span><em><span>certainly</span></em> <em><span>not</span></em><span> been one of them. “What?”</span></p><p>
  <span>Jaksier was oblivious to her judgement as he began to fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>ramble</span>
  </em>
  <span> about Geralt’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hair</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all things. Good lord she was going to regret this. The cuteness of the situation was wearing off rather quickly. “Because if he dyes it, his hair must be crunchy, and not at all soft. And yet, it was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> gorgeous… like...spiders made it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer gave him a face of utmost disappointment and disgust as she clearly rethought her decision to give Jaskier that key. “Like </span>
  <em>
    <span>spiders</span>
  </em>
  <span> made it? I </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> you considered yourself a poet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier jumped up, torn out of his apparent romantic fantasies about Geralt at Yennefer insulting his poetic skills. “I do! I didn’t win the slam poetry contest against Valdo fucking Marx senior year for no reason!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer sighed. “Clearly, your skills have left you since then. Like spiders made it? Really, that’s your best?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen….listen…” Jaskier’s hands started moving around quickly, signifying that he was probably about to start another spider related rant, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Anything but hearing him compare Geralt’s hair to spider webbing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I also wouldn’t say that to his face. He’s scared of spiders,” Yennefer interrupted him, saying the first thing that came to mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Geralt was going to kill her if he found out she had told him that...or well </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s face, however, softened into what she could only describe as a little puddle of goo, like that was the cutest thing he had ever heard. She had half a mind to take a picture of it and set it as his contact photo. “He’s scared of spiders?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. Don’t tell him I said that.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t tell him I said anything about him to you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier grinned that awful mischievous grin of his. “I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Now, dearest Yen.. I have a few questions..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The moon,” he said, deadpan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt</span>
  </em>
  <span> you dweeb!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer sighed. So much for not telling Jaskier anything else about Geralt. “What do you want to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Jaskier sank back down onto her couch, sounding very much like every lovesick lady in all the Jane Austen movie adaptations ever made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted. “Nosy much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it? He seems like a kind man, and his father was lovely. The pierogies he made were fantastic and I want to eat them </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyday</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His eyes...oh Yen, his eyes are beautiful!” Jaskier plopped a pillow over his face. “They’re like spring grass on a dewy morning, like chips of emeralds, the first leaves popping up after the snow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those aren’t questions. Those are the words of a lovesick fool.” Yennefer teased. As much as she hated being on the receiving end of his lamentations, she was glad that Jaskier was so interested in Geralt. It made her job a lot easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a fool!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer raised an eyebrow, still trying to come off as disinterested. “Ask your questions already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay so: How tall is he, because he was sitting down, but holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span> he looks like he could crush me. Also on that note how big are his arm muscles because he was wearing a flannel, but they looked so big and I just-” He took a breath, so focused on asking questions that he didn't notice the surprise streaking across her face. “What does he do to get them so big? Is it making the pierogies? Have </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> seen him make them? And does he normally smell that good, because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> whatever cologne he was using. Or was that conditioner? Does his hair look good down? He had it up in a bun which was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so hot,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but like, how long is it? Is his voice always that deep and sexy or does he like, have a cold? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He said he has brothers, is he the hottest one? What are they like? Did he make his father’s cane, because it was such pretty woodwork? What’s his number? Is he into men?” Jaskier paused to catch his breath, and Yennefer shot him a look that (thankfully) kept his mouth shut for the time being.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to regret saying anything. Damn Jaskier and his stupid puppy eyes that she couldn't resist. “He’s a disaster of a man and uses bar soap and axe. You can ask him what scent he uses if you really want to know,” she began reluctantly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier had to ask how tall Geralt was, the lovesick fool. She hadn’t seen him without at least his crutches in...well ever. “He’s around 6’4 I think?” Yeah that sounded about right. “I don’t know if he lifts,” ha, imagine</span>
  <em>
    <span> Geralt lifting, </span>
  </em>
  <span>“but he does roll all the dough for pierogies, which is a lot of dough. I’m pretty sure his voice is just that low cause it’s been like that the whole time I’ve known him.” Yennefer clenched her eyes shut, trying to remember Jaskier’s other questions. “What else did you ask?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long is his hair and does it look that nice all the time? Are his brothers cool and is he the hot one? Did he make his father’s cane? Is he into men?” Jaskier thought for a moment. “Oh yeah, where’s he from? He has a pretty thick accent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier.” Yennefer put her head in her hands. “He works at his family’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Polish deli</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Where do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s from?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Oops.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lovesick fools.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yennefer rolled her eyes. “His hair is about shoulder length, like mine, but it’s curly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He has curly hair</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> dug her own grave now. “Yes. I doubt you’ll ever see it like that though. The only reason I know about it is...well…” Geralt’s angry face when she found that photo album had been unfortunately living rent free in her head since 2013. “It doesn’t matter why. But he uses bar soap for his hair so it never properly curls. Anyway-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Wait-wait-wait. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bar</span>
  </em>
  <span> soap? For his </span>
  <em>
    <span>hair</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer nodded solemnly. “It’s awful. And I think it’s like, fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Irish Spring</span>
  </em>
  <span> or something gross. And, oh my god, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>rips</span>
  </em>
  <span> through his hair with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>brush</span>
  </em>
  <span> and if he doesn’t have the energy he just throws it into a bun. I’ve tried to stop him but he refuses to listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate that.” Jaskier sighed. “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Oh he’d be even </span>
  <em>
    <span>hotter</span>
  </em>
  <span> with curly hair! Yennefer, I’ve found my calling!” He flung his hand out, just narrowly missing smacking her across the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer sighed for what felt like the millionth time as she moved Jaskier’s hand. “Anyway, his brother Eskel is wonderful and unlike Geralt and Lambert, actually has the ability to </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Lambert’s an </span>
  <em>
    <span>asshole</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’ll probably get along brilliantly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier gave her an unimpressed look. “Just because you think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> an asshole, doesn’t mean that my </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> are assholes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” Yennefer looked down to admire her dark purple nailpolish. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> friends with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier nodded. “Point taken.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway,” Yennefer continued, “Lambert’s been crushing on Aiden, who owns the cat shop above Kaer Morhen, for about two years. He thinks they’re just bros being bros. They are not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye aye.” Jaskier saluted her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>listening</span>
  </em>
  <span> to anything I’m saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jaskier groaned. “Eskel has the brain cell, Lambert’s an asshole who's so far in the closet he’s in Narnia and Geralt’s a beautiful idiot who uses Irish Spring in his hair. Now what about the rest of my questions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer stood up and walked to her kitchen. She needed a glass of water. Or maybe some wine if Jaskier was going to stick around much longer. “His dad, Vesemir, is pretty chill, and as long as you don’t fuck with the food, or fuck with Geralt, Lambert, or Eskel, you’re good in his book.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes his family sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>lovely</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Jaskier said. He had followed her into the kitchen and  had draped himself across her counter. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>bastard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “But uh..Yen.. you haven’t actually said if he’s into men yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer pursed her lips. She had been trying to avoid this question, but it was clear she couldn’t dodge it any longer. At least he hadn’t asked about the cane again. And a good thing too, discussing Geralt’s disability was not something that she was at liberty to discuss. Especially if he didn't even think that Geralt was disabled in the first place. “Well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he straight?” Jaskier was going to kill her if Geralt was straight. He had used his best pick up lines on Geralt for God’s sake….well maybe they weren't his </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span> but as everyone knows, you can’t just use the same line twice! It would be simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>blasphemous</span>
  </em>
  <span>! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d have to ask him yourself,” Yennefer said, opening a bottle of merlot. This was clearly not going to end anytime soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen.” Now it was Jaskier’s turn to put his head in his hands. “You sent me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>flirt</span>
  </em>
  <span> with a man who is either straight, or is so deep in the closet, he’s in fucking Narnia. Apparently it runs in the family!” Jaskier banged his hands on the counter. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> about to fall for another straight guy. Nope nope, </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely not.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Curse Yen and her stupid, hot, probably straight friends!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say he was straight or closeted.” Yennefer tried to defend herself, but she knew it was a weak response. She took a sip of her wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one just says: oh ask him yourself about someone’s sexuality unless they’re straight or in denial!” This was practically Jaskier’s job for fucks sake. And yet, it had done pretty much nothing to prepare him for this. “Which is it? So I know what angle I need to approach him with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer tapped her nails against the bowl of her wine glass for what felt like forever. Fuck her and her ability to milk things to high hell. He was having a crisis for fuck’s sake! “If he’s not straight, he’s probably in denial. When we were dating, and when I’ve seen him date other women, it always ends after a few weeks with the woman saying that Geralt didn’t give the relationship the spark it needed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that hardly means anything Yen.” He really didn't want to drink right now, but he might need it. “Maybe he just hasn't found the right woman yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or maybe he doesn’t need a </span>
  <em>
    <span>woman</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Yennefer paused playing with her wine glass charm to give Jaskier one of her </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re-being-a-stupid-idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span> looks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier threw up his hands. “Fine! But what do you want me to do? Freak him out by flirting with him or something? I’m not going to pursue a relationship with a man who’s not ready to come out, or who’s just straight. It’s not right!” Jaskier knew he was sort of a fuckboy. He had been a college frat boy and as much as he tried to suppress it, it was kind of still in his DNA. But he wasn’t ever going to force his presence on some poor man who was struggling to accept himself. No one deserved that. And he could be a bit of a handful sometimes, if Yennefer was anything to go by. He made a mental note to buy her another bottle of wine as a thank you for listening to his rambling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just keep flirting with him.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah cause that’s gonna work, Yen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “If he’s uninterested, he will tell you. If not…” Yennefer shrugged. She knew Geralt and if he wasn’t interested in someone’s advances and didn’t have a connection to them, he would tell them so. Or at the very least avoid them at all costs. She had set him up on enough dates to know that by now. Hell, she was pretty sure he’d dated all of her work friends at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if he doesn’t and I just make him uncomfortable?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then he’ll probably just avoid you.” She looked up. “You’re smart enough to know when someone isn’t interested.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier nodded in agreement before pursing his lips. “And what if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> gay and I’m just not his type?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you’re not his type. I don’t know what to tell you!” Yennefer gestured so wildly that she nearly knocked her glass over. “If he’s gay, I can’t think of any reason why you wouldn’t be though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh.” Jaskier thought for a minute. “I’ll do my best Yen. He is honestly a whole snack. That’s what the kids say nowadays right..? Or is it a three course meal that’s good…?” He really needed to spend some quality time on TikTok tonight. He deserved it after the crisis Geralt had given him that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you could call him a three course meal?” Yennefer couldn't be bothered to keep up with the nonsense of the kids these days. Everything changed so quickly. Her knowledge on pop culture ended with Vine. “You’d have to ask when you see the kids tomorrow for your presentation on gender. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. How had he forgotten about that? “The one in Queens? I think that’s at 1 tomorrow. But I can’t just be like, ‘Oh, sex is different from gender, also whats the difference between a snack and a three course meal?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could if you weren’t a coward.” Yennefer shook her head in fake disappointment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am no coward! I just don’t want to get fired. There’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>difference</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Jaskier shrugged and stood up. “Okay, speaking of that, I should get going so I can make sure everything’s in place for tomorrow, but I should see you at the office before I leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should stop by the deli for lunch. I’m sure you have time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a meeting in the morning and I have to prepare for the presentation.” He thought about his schedule, trying to work out whether or not he could work in a run to get lunch. He had planned to just eat whatever granola bar was at the bottom of his messenger bag, but the prospect of seeing Geralt was tempting. “If I can, I’ll be there though. Wouldn’t want to miss out on seeing him.” Jaskier picked up his phone to check the time, and then put it in his pocket. “I really should go though. See you tomorrow!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I don’t see you, good luck on your presentation!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier winked and opened the door, pretending not to hear Yennefer’s loud sigh of relief as the door shut. She could suck it. This whole thing was her fault after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Jaskier walked towards the elevators to head back up to his floor he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. It was from an unknown number. Ooo maybe it was Geralt? Had his stupid pickup line about the beaver actually worked? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hll0. its grlt. hw r u? y tld me 2 txt. i hpe u likd ur pr0gi. ys usl iz ptty gud</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay. What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> did that say? He assumed it was from Geralt, what else could </span>
  <em>
    <span>grlt</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean? Jaskier read it over three more times. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He turned to run back to Yennefer’s apartment, withholding the </span>
  <em>
    <span>vital information</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Geralt texted like it was 2005 was vital information that she had withheld after all, but the elevator arrived so he settled for sending her a screenshot instead. She sent back a laughing emoji almost immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier: Not funny, yen. What is he saying? I cannot, for the life of me, decipher what he said. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Another laughing emoji. Great. Jaskier tried not to scream. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How on Earth was he supposed to flirt with Geralt if he couldn’t even read his texts? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He may have been an English major, but he had no idea how to translate whatever gibberish Geralt was texting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked out of the elevator and down the hall to his apartment. Throwing open the door, he shouted, “Greg! Riddle me this, what does </span>
  <em>
    <span>ys usl iz ptty gud?</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean? Do you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg, being a houseplant, said nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he is straight after all, Greg,” Jaskier grumbled, rummaging around in his cabinet for some ramen. Having a crisis really made you hungry. “Cause that is some </span>
  <em>
    <span>heteronormative bullshit,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as far as I’m concerned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s phone buzzed again. It was another text from Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>sry ths iz jsk rite</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Well. Jaskier could understand what that meant, but barely. His 2005 texting was a little on the rusty side.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier: Hello, Geralt! </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>The food was delicious, thank you! How are you doing?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a minute for Geralt to respond, but when he did, Jaskier had to reread his message four times to get the gist. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt: m gld!!!!! it nrmlly dsnt tk sl 4 v 2 mk em bt ig smtg wnt wrng w th stve. m dng p gud. wbu</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. Well. Maybe he should just pretend he knew what Geralt was saying? Oh Steve Jobs why, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> couldn't you make texting come with subtitles?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier: I see! I completely understand, so no worries! I’m glad you’re doing good! I’m finishing a presentation for a school for tomorrow and it’s been going great so I’m doing fantastic! (-:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt: wuts th prsnttn abt???</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier smiled. This one he understood. And Geralt was interested in his presentation! He had been in relationships where the other person couldn’t have cared less about his work, something that was incredibly important to him, so he took Geralt’s attention as a sign that he was doing something right. Of course, Geralt could just be being polite, but based on what Yennefer had told him, it seemed like he could be interested. He quickly typed back a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier: Well, as a sexuality educator, it's my job to help teach children at schools about gender and sexuality and everything in that sphere. A GSA from a school in Queens reached out to me to speak at an assembly, so I’m leading a short presentation about the differences between gender and sex and a little about the LGBTQ+ community and its history. I’ve been there before, and from what I remember they were really kind and listened well!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt: tht snds rlly c00l i thk ul d0 a grt jb. u clrly cre al0t abt thm s m nt sprsd thy lsn.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The zeros for O’s reminded Jaskier a lot of his days on early tumblr. Oh what a time it was, with his aesthetic blogs...but alas his blogs slowly faded into oblivion and he had forgotten his password. Oh well. Jaskier promised himself he’d ask Geralt why he typed like that next time he saw him, because he wasn’t too sure he was capable of translating Geralt’s near incomprehensible mess of consonants that was his texting for much longer. At least Geralt was hot enough to make the extra brain power worth it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier slept his phone and put it on the counter, reaching into his bag for his computer while he waited for his water to boil. His computer was covered in stickers that he had gotten from many pride events and there were a few that were from bands he liked; like Britney Spears, Lizzo, and Queen. The small groups of kids he often spoke to liked to ask what stickers he had on the computer, and Jaskier always welcomed their interest. Some of them he had had for years and were peeling off and faded. It didn’t matter though. They served their purpose just fine. Jaskier opened his computer and went to his slides presentation to finish editing, when his phone buzzed again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt: wll u b @ th shp tmr</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was glad he was sitting down cause if not he definitely would have fallen over. So he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucked everything up with shitty pickup lines then! Thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He went back to his computer and checked the times for his meetings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wouldn't have time to linger in the shop, but in </span>
  <em>
    <span>theory</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jaskier could probably stop by the deli for lunch if his meetings didn’t run over like they normally did. He sent a quick prayer up to the meeting gods. They hardly ever listened to him, but maybe they would take pity on him this time. There was his relationship with a hot guy hanging in the balance after all!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier: I don’t know :/ Depends on your lunch break and whether my meetings go over.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hoped Geralt would be there when he could swing by, or his whole visit was pointless. Well… not entirely. The pierogi was actually quite good, but it would be more worth his time to be able to see Geralt. His phone buzzed again, and Jaskier let out a sigh of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt: hrs r prtt fxbl. whvr u cm n s gud.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>From what he could decipher, Jaskier made the assumption that Geralt was saying that he’d be there whether it was his official working hours or not. He was a bit flattered, but he also hoped he wasn’t mistranslating. That would be embarrassing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier: Are you there at 11? I know it's an early lunch, but I don’t know your schedule. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt: we r 0pn frm 7-6. we stggr wrk hrs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier grinned and turned back to Greg. “Hear that Greg? I get to see the most beautiful, most </span>
  <em>
    <span>fantastic</span>
  </em>
  <span> man again! May whatever force that allowed this to happen to hear my thanks for this blessing! And may the meeting gods not fuck me over!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that a slightly over dramatic reaction to something that wasn’t even a date? Maybe. But Jaskier was always a little extra. He blamed his former status as a theatre kid for that one. Regardless, he was going to see Geralt tomorrow, </span>
  <em>
    <span>(finger’s crossed!)</span>
  </em>
  <span> and so his reaction was completely valid. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier: See you then?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt: c u thn.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so geralt's texting? any guesses??</p><p>any bets on when aiden and lambert will get together???</p><p>come find us on tumblr</p><p>saph: <a class="tumblelog" href="https://tmblr.co/mya9AR0Vn-K_MNqp9aKaKgg">@suddenly-im-respecsable</a></p><p>katya:</p>
<p>
  <a class="tumblelog" href="https://tmblr.co/mgHhxgtybYODlGc7lsuZpzQ">@toss-a-coin-to-your-lesbian</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Bop It, Snix It, Pull It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt has a crisis and Lambert is not a plumber. Jaskier continues to simp. Eskel and Vesemir have the braincells.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warnings: geralt has a pretty detailed sexuality crisis. if you want to skip this star reading after the first "____"<br/>also aiden accidentally turned out horny on main?? idk how that happened, im ace as hell but, yeah. there's no sex tho. just some. vague horniness. for comic relief. and ofc geralts shit coping mechanisms, bad sleeping habits, and his arthritis acts up in this chap a little.</p><p>lots of little easter eggs in this chapter....theyre fun surprises well need for later...you know....for the trauma....</p><p>and eskel will remain alive and well in this story, which is more than we can say for canon sadly.</p><p>polish stuff is bolded. if you find the show quote you get a star :)</p><p>anyway!! enjoy!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt was 2 seconds away from screaming. Of course he had to go and catch….feelings? Yeah that was a good word for whatever it was that was disrupting his much-needed sleep. He couldn’t do this anymore. His legs ached and thoughts of Jaskier were flooding his mind and giving him a massive headache. He couldn’t even get comfortable. His right knee of course tonight to act up and every time he tried to move it, it popped and shot fresh spikes of pain up his thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt leaned over to check the time on his alarm clock. 1:53am. He sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another sleepless night then,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought, as he grabbed the Advil bottle next to the clock. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was empty. Geralt sighed and went to get up to grab a new bottle from the kitchen, but as he did so, his knee seized up so bad he dropped the empty container as he fell back down on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” He carefully pulled himself up by leaning on the bed and transferred to his wheelchair which he had thankfully had the foresight to leave next to his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly made his way to the kitchen, muscles still heavy with sleep that wouldn't come, and turned on the lights. He stood, leaning heavily on the counter - why hadn’t he grabbed at least his cane before he had left his room? Had Jaskier really clouded his thoughts that much? - to reach the cabinet and grab the advil before sitting heavily back down and getting a glass of water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took the pills, and went to his computer, which sat on the counter next to an empty kraft mac n cheese container. He took the computer, put it on his lap with the advil bottle, and went back to his room. He didn’t bother turning the lights off. Chances were he wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon and it was likely he would be back for a snack at least. Stress made him crave sour cream and onion pringles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt transferred himself back onto the bed with only minor difficulty. He was used to the constant pain, but sometimes it would get so bad he would give up and just stay in his wheelchair until he could bear to move from it. He probably should have done that tonight, but he was still clinging to the tiny hope that he might miraculously fall asleep and falling asleep in a wheelchair was never fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His right knee started to seize up again and he groaned. Normally he would bite it back, but there was no one here to worry, to ask him too many questions so he let it out. He shut his eyes, racking his brain for the deep breathing techniques that Eskel had tried to teach him and trying to convince himself that it could be worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s just your right knee, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The left one could be hurting too. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck off,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he told himself. It was rare that his left knee ever experienced half the pain his right one did, stupid fucking soviets and infections be damned.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt opened his laptop and pulled up google. Then closed it. Then opened it again. Then shut his laptop with a smack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flicked back to the clock. 2:17am. Fucking hell. Well, it wasn't like he had anything to lose. He opened his laptop again and checked to make sure he was in an incognito tab before quickly typing “How to tell if you’re gay test” into the search bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt averted his eyes as the page loaded, and instead adjusted his computer so it was sitting on his left thigh and shoved a pillow under his knee. If nothing else it might trick himself into thinking it didn't hurt as much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blindly, he clicked the first link google gave him. Which turned out to be a buzzfeed test called </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How Gay Are You?”</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He clicked it, and he was greeted with a bright screen with rainbow art on it. He grimaced, quickly advancing to the next screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first question was </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Choose a color.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt sighed. There was no black option so he clicked blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like Jaskier’s eyes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a corner of his mind said. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Shut up,” he growled out loud. How was he supposed to take a test if his mind was being so damn loud? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scrolled to the next question. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What is your favorite Beyonce song?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt stared at the screen for a moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who the fuck is Beyonce?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought, and clicked the I’m not into Beyonce option. He’d have to text Ciri and ask her in the morning. Well, later in the morning. Onto the next question. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was about having sex. Geralt closed the tab. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t the test supposed to find out if you’re gay or not? Wouldn’t the answer tell you if you did or not? What the hell did sex have to do with it? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it was called “How Gay Are You?”. Maybe it was just for people who already knew. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yeah, that must be it. That would explain the sex question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled up another incognito tab and typed in “am I gay test”. This time, a website called All The Tests was at the top of the google answers. He clicked on it, expecting to see the same format as the buzzfeed test. It was twelve questions long. Well, if twelve questions was all it took…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He began the test, answering as truthfully but as quickly as he could, occasionally considering when he got to one he didn’t know the answer to. It was better to just get this over with as soon as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Question 6 read </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Have you ever had a crush on a man?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He froze, hands still above the keyboard. He didn’t know. Did he have a crush on Jaskier? He supposed that whatever he was feeling could be a crush, but he had never felt this way about women. Unless he had but hadn’t realized it?  How was he supposed to know? Wasn't that what the test was supposed to tell him? He skimmed over the answers again before quickly clicking “Yes, but I regret it.” It was the only option that he really felt fit the situation. He wasn’t sure if he was crushing, but if he was, he couldn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next question was the same but asked about women. Geralt thought for a moment, drying to dredge up the buried memories of his past relationships. He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t felt excited - was he excited about Jaskier? -  like this about someone before. Not even about Yen. Of course he loved her, but not in the right way for a relationship. They had no spark in the relationship, that's what Ciri had said, and after a few weeks they had realized that they would only get hurt if they dragged it out. What was it that Yen had said? Right. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t give you what you need. You need to find what makes you happy, because I can’t do that, and you can’t do that for me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> So they had broken up, and though it hurt to know he couldn’t be enough for her (or anyone, he thought), they had both found that they suited being friends better. With the combination of Yennefer’s constant anger and need to separate herself from pain, and Geralt’s quiet acceptance that he was meant to suffer, they would have never worked. And that was fine. But had Geralt ever truly loved her like he was supposed to? He thought he did, but looking back he realized that everything he did for Yen was out of fear she would leave, not out of love. Maybe he just hadn’t found the right person yet? He clicked “No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued taking the test, and after the last question clicked the results button. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It had to be wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gay? He couldn’t be gay. He had to be bi or something. Or straight. Just straight. He couldn’t be gay. He didn’t have crushes on men. It was just something that didn’t happen. Jaskier was a fluke, a one off. Or maybe it was the test. Maybe the test was wrong. What did this online test know anyway? It was probably made by some stupid teenager. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided to take another one. He went through like he did the last one, though it was slightly shorter, and when he got to the results button he prayed it would say he was straight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was gay again. That couldn’t be right. The website must be broken then, or maybe he was misunderstanding the questions and not thinking straight. That had to be why. He needed to retake them and retake them correctly. It was late and he was in pain, that must be clouding his judgement. He probably didn’t have a crush on Jaskier. Maybe he was dehydrated. He loved Yen, he was just being dramatic. That had to be it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He punched the back arrow until he got to the first test he had taken and went back through, redoing them all, and when he got straight every time, he forced himself to smile and pushed down the shame that was threatening to spill over. He was straight. The tests said so, and dammit, Geralt himself said so. He couldn’t be gay, because he wasn’t gay. He took a few more tests, just to be sure, and each time he got straight. By the fifth one he started to feel sick. He slammed his computer shut and put it on his nightstand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt forced himself to lay down even though he knew it would just make the pain in his knee worse. He turned to check the time. 2:40. He closed his eyes and hoped he would be able to fall asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he lay awake for what felt like hours. God, his knee hurt. Stress always made everything hurt ten times worse, and the light in the kitchen he had stupidly left on was making his headache worse. He rolled to face the wall, grunting as his knee twisted uncomfortably. He plopped his pillow over his eyes and hoped that when his alarm went off in two hours he wouldn't still be awake.  </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Lambert, I need you right away. Please hurry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was 3:30am on a Tuesday, and Aiden was frantically calling Lambert over and over for help. The reason? While getting a nice ‘midnight’ snack, Aiden’s sink had decided to start spraying everywhere, and despite all of Aiden’s attempts to make it stop, the sink clearly had other ideas. So, he called Lambert. At least he was wearing a soaking wet shirt that clung really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> well to his body. Unfortunately his hair had taken quite a hit, and he looked like he got sprayed with a hose, though to be fair, he did, so he figured Lambert would forgive that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hoses were actually the furthest thought from Lambert’s mind when he answered the phone though because he had been fast asleep, and was not happy to be being woken up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aiden...It’s 3:30am..can’t you wait till morning?” Lambert said groggily and yawned. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a morning person, and if it was anyone else who was calling he would’ve told them to go fuck themself. But it was Aiden, his closest friend, so he legally had to pick up the phone. He really didn’t want to have to walk 15 blocks to get to Aiden’s apartment, but Aiden </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound scared. But also it was 3:30 in the fucking morning and Lambert wanted to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t! I can’t afford for my water bill to go up so high, and it's all hot water so I won’t be able to shower at all. It’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Aiden was sitting on his couch, a slightly disgruntled, wet cat on his lap while watching the water just shoot up everywhere. It had been about ten minutes since it had started, and it didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. Aiden was beginning to worry about the flooring and what it would cost to fix it. Fucking hell, if he lost his security deposit over this… “Please Lambert. You’re the only one who I know can help me. I’ll give you all the coffee I can buy if you come and help me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert sighed. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Aiden grinned. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> you loved me! Thank you so much, I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert was quiet for a minute. Why had Aiden saying he loved him feel different from all the other times Aiden had said it? It felt like he had actually meant it. Lambert knew he didn’t though and that he was just thankful for his help. They were bros after all, and Lambert supposed that friends did love each other, and maybe Lambert was just overthinking it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Definitely overthinking it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lambert thought. What was up with him lately? Everytime Aiden did something, Lambert was drawn to it, like a moth to the flame, and he wasn’t sure why. It didn't matter. He had a sink to fix. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” He promised, and waited for a response for a few moments before he realized Aiden had hung up. Lambert sighed and got out of bed and pulled on the first shirt he saw. After pulling on his shoes and grabbing his keys and phone, he left his apartment to begin the walk to Aiden’s. By now it was around 3:45, and Lambert knew he wouldn’t be able to find a taxi quick enough to go to Aiden’s apartment. It would take around 15-20 minutes anyway, as most of the blocks there were short. He started off running, but the lack of coffee quickly caught up to him and he slowed to a quick walk. How in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> did Eskel go for runs before work every morning? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around five minutes into his journey, the sound of a </span>
  <span>motorcycle</span>
  <span> made him look up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lam!” Aiden grinned and waved, way too awake for four in the morning, “You were taking too long. Hop on!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise you won’t kill me?” Lambert looked skeptically at the motorcycle. He’d seen Aiden ride it before, but really didn’t trust him enough to go on it. But,, he didn’t really have a choice unless he wanted to walk so he got on behind Aiden and wrapped his arms around him to stay on. Wait. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Aiden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Aiden started the motorcycle back up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re soaking wet. What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sink broke?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you didn’t fucking change?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden pulled away from the curb instead of responding, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the fucker</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Lambert held on tight and looked around at the city as they drove. It was beautiful in the dim twilight and he had a perfect view, that is, until while leaning on a turn, Aiden’s hair whipped Lambert right in the eye, causing him to curse loudly in Aiden’s ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lam. That was loud!” Aiden yelled, making sure Lambert could hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your fucking hair got in my eye!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get so close then, I don’t know what to tell you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like me to fall off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not particularly, you still have to fix my sink.” Aiden stopped the motorcycle in the lot where he parked it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that all I am to you? A sink fixer?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Aiden said. “A sink fixer. A snixer, if you will. My own personal snixer for all of my snixing needs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you loved me.” Lambert said, completely deadpan. Two could play this game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I do, I just need a snixer as well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. How bad was it when you left? And do you have coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t good!” Aiden said, skipping over the coffee question cheerfully as he led Lambert up to his apartment. “Now, when you go in, be sure to duck or you’ll get hit in the face!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aiden.” Lambert sighed, “Do you have coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In theory!” Aiden opened the door and ducked to avoid the blast of water from the sink. Lambert followed closely behind, but when he ducked, he realized that somehow both he and Aiden had forgotten that Lambert was six inches taller than Aiden, so when he ducked, he was hit directly in the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking fuck!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lambert hollered and got away from the water as quickly as possible, however, while doing so he slipped and fell right onto Aiden, causing them to topple over like dominos. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking hell, Lam, what are you trying to kill me for?” Aiden tried to get up from underneath Lambert, only to realize that Lambert had effectively pinned him underneath his...shit. Since when was Lambert so muscular? And...</span>
  <em>
    <span>dense</span>
  </em>
  <span>? And why in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> had he had the unfortunate (fortunate?) luck to land right on his crotch? Was this Lambert’s way of flirting with him? Cause if so maybe it was good that he was playing hard to get. Aiden could get used to this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not trying to kill you! I’m trying not to get blinded by your fucking sink!” Although now that Aiden mentioned it, Lambert noticed that he did seem to have him pinned. Underneath him. On a very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> slippery floor. He tried to slide himself off but skidded and just ended up more on top of Aiden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lam what the fuck are you doing?” Aiden put all of his effort into not looking at Lambert’s face, which was now mere inches away from his own, because he would want to kiss him senseless. He shifted his eyes down instead and oh fuck - </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad idea! Very bad idea! -</span>
  </em>
  <span> was met with the glorious sight of Lambert’s water splattered shirt sticking to his pecs. A few small streams of water dripped off his beard and down his neck and collarbone before soaking the neckline of his shirt and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Something hardened against his thigh and he knew it wasn't Lambert’s knee digging into him this time. He tried to tell his stupidly stubborn dick that now was really </span>
  <em>
    <span>not the time,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but it didn't seem to want to listen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trying to get up you </span>
  <b>asshole</b>
  <span>, it’s not my fault that your floor is more slippery than a fucking banana peel!” He felt something hard under his knee as he repositioned it and quickly moved it back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He must have leaned too hard on Aiden’s leg. Hopefully he wouldn’t get a bruise. He rolled off quickly, not wanting to cause any more damage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you need to take ballet classes or some shit so you learn how to walk.” Aiden stood up, and gestured wildly at the sink. Maybe if he made his arm movements crazy enough, Lambert wouldn’t notice! Right? It wasn't like his pants were that tight? Aiden did kind of hope he noticed, though Lambert hadn’t said anything about it… Maybe it was part of the playing hard to get thing and Lambert was just screwing around with him so he’d crack. Was this some sort of competition for who would make the other confess first? If it was, he wasn’t going to lose. “Well! Get to work, snixer!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coffee first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon?” Aiden asked, trying to pretend that he hadn’t promised Lambert coffee. His pitiful excuse for acting didn’t work, and for a brief moment Aiden thought Lambert was going to cry. Or punch him. One of the two. Preferably the second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you not have coffee? If you don’t have coffee, you’re stuck with a flooded apartment. You promised coffee.” Lambert practically towered over him as it was, but he stepped forward so their height difference was even more staggering. He looked down at Aiden and glared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait hold on, before you kill me, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have coffee. Just let me get it.” Aiden walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a packet of instant coffee he had bought while he was high five months earlier. “See! Real coffee! Please fix my sink!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's not real coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden gave him his best puppy eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” Lambert got down by the sink and started looking at how he could possibly fix it. Unluckily, he didn't know the first thing about fixing a sink. ANd his current plan was to pull at and twist things until the water stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden, who had failed every physics and math class he had ever taken - were those even the proper skills required to fix a sink? He had no idea - decided to sit down on the couch and scroll through tik tok. He hadn’t had the app for that long, but he did really like learning about all the new slang, the new music, the new fashion that the younger generations had. It was so cool to see all of their funky dances, and Aiden was tempted to start learning them because they just looked so fun! Aiden was tempted to try one, but unfortunately his ability to dance stopped past heel classes. Which was different from the tik tok dances. Very different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was barely suppressing his urge to try and learn the renegade when Lambert shouted from the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I fixed it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden threw his phone down a little too quickly. Somehow, he didn’t think that Lambert would find trying to learn the renegade at all attractive. “Why so unsure, snixer?” S</span>
  <em>
    <span>top with that awful pun, Aiden. You’ve used it three times already!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I don’t know,” Lambert rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorframe. “Maybe because it’s barely 5am, I haven’t had anything but </span>
  <em>
    <span>instant coffee</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which I’m pretty sure expired when Nixon was still in office </span>
  <em>
    <span>by the way</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I don’t even really know how to fix a sink in the first place!” Seriously, what was Aiden’s problem? Of course Aiden was his bro and all, but this was really pushing the limits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>born</span>
  </em>
  <span> when Nixon was in office,” Aiden rolled his eyes. What else has Lambert said? He could hardly remember. The shimmering of his deep blue eyes was so breathtaking in the glow of the approaching sunrise, everything else had faded into oblivion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Fucking hell</b>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you took from what I said?” Lambert threw his head back and then winced immediately when water droplets fell from his hair into his back unpleasantly. He should have brought a hair tie. “I fixed your sink </span>
  <b>you dumbass</b>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden blinked. Lambert throwing his head back had made his still-damp hair stick pleasantly to his forehead. It truly was a treat to see Lambert with his hair down, usually he kept it up in a bun around the shop, which was nothing short of the definition of sex on a stick itself, but there was something intimate about him seeing it down. Like a private moment he had stumbled in upon. Soft, domestic. And, tragically, just out of reach. He should say something to preserve the fleeting moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t fail me now, brain! </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I love it when you speak Polish to me, Lam.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nailed it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert took half a step backwards. Love? What was there to love about him calling Aiden a dumbass? And why was Aiden using the word love so much? And and, why was his heart...beating so fast? Had the coffee really been that bad? He was going to sue Aiden for poisoning if he died. “Yeah...okay. Let’s go see if your sink works, </span>
  <b>dumbass</b>
  <span>.” Why did you say that Lambert? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Aiden smiled, he was wearing him down at last. At this rate they might be going on a date by….what month was it? June? Well, maybe by December if he was lucky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert turned and immediately smacked his hand into the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Make that </span>
  <em>
    <span>really lucky</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert rubbed at his hand as he led the way into the kitchen. Sure enough, it appeared that whatever patch job he had managed was holding because water had not resumed spurting in his absence. Thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He turned to Aiden and planted his hands on his hips. “Does it pass inspection?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden pretended to inspect whatever the hell Lambert had done to his sink, but really he just needed an excuse to hide the blush that was threatening to creep up his cheeks. Lambert </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew how to make him squirm!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” he considered. “Turn it on. I want to see that you didn’t just disconnect the line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert resisted the urge to smack his head on the wall. Again. Purposefully this time. What was Aiden’s problem?! The tap was closer to him, why couldn’t he just turn it on for fuck’s sake! He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly enough that it would rival even Geralt’s dramatics and flicked on the tap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden stifled a giggle. Had he really flustered Lambert that much? Hopefully this meant that he could speed things up soon because Lambert annoyed was definitely something that he needed to see more of, and asap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?” Lambert said, flicking on the faucet. “It works ju- AH!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Water shot out from the faucet and hit Lambert directly in the eye. Of course it had to be the eye, the blasted thing. He stumbled blindly around the kitchen for a few seconds, trying not to slip on the still-slick floor when he bumped into something solid, the counter most likely, and grabbed onto it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the counter inhaled sharply and he realized it wasn't a counter at all, but Aiden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert blinked quickly, trying to get his eye to function at least half way normally again so he could give Aiden one of his best glares. But his intentions of doing so faded when his blurry vision focused again and he realized that the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he had thought was the counter was actually Aiden’s abs. Jesus </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the man was solid. Distantly Lambert wondered if he could beat him in a plank competition, but the thought faded into insignificance when he lowered his gaze and actually saw Aiden’s abs actually showing through the wetness of his white t-shirt. Clearly he had also been a victim of the faucet blast. So why did he find himself unable to look away?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden watched as Lambert licked his mysterious blue eyes up his body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So wearing a white shirt was a good call then, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought as Lambert’s gaze made its way up to his face, but stopped just short of his eyes. Oh, so this was how he wanted to play it, then?. The faucet blast had soaked his already damp hair, which was now plastered to the side of his face, a few strands stuck to his perfect, soft lips. He looked like a drowned tabby cat, but Aiden had never been more attracted to him. He slowly reached up to brush the hair away, taking great care to admire how his reddish hair seemed to glow in the impeccable combination of morning light and sink water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he whispered, rubbing Lambert’s cheek slightly as he brushed the hair away, leaning impossibly closer. Thank god he had had the foresight to brush his teeth that morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Lambert didn’t tear his eyes from where they were trained on Aiden’s lips. He looked like he wanted something, but what Lambert had no idea. He was content to stay there forever, gazing at his friend as he leaned in, pink lips parting slightly as his chocolate brown eyes started to flutter shit, the sound of the squirting water providing ample background noise as he ducked down, only centimeters away from-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Shit!</b>
  <span> The faucet!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden stumbled, caught so off balance by Lambert ducking out of his embrace that he nearly lost his footing on the slick floor. “Oh, um…” He watched distractedly as Lambert tried desperately to stop the squirting water. Why had they stopped? He knew his breath didn’t smell bad. He had actually bought toothpaste recently. Was Lambert simply not interested in him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Lambert managed to turn off the faucet. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I think you might need a new faucet. But the pipe’s not leaking anymore?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don't look at him, don't look at him, anywhere but him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay. That thing’s been shit since the day I moved in.” Aiden smiled when he realized Lambert was refusing to meet his eyes. He was definitely interested. Why else had he come to his apartment at 3:30 in the morning to fix a sink when he knew nothing about plumbing whatsoever? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well…” Lambert padded his pockets awkwardly, making sure he still had his keys and his wallet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t look at him, don’t look at him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Glad I could help then. I should be, uh, getting to work. Eskel’s gonna kill me as it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me change and I’ll drive you,” Aiden immediately offered. A kiss might be in their future today after all…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, n-no,” Lambert stumbled over his words. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert,” Aiden sighed, closing the distance between them once again as he reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Darling, wonderful, Lambert. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We work in the same building</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden smiled again, clapping Lambert on the shoulder before walking to his room. “Just give me a few minutes to change, alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm, yeah.” Lambert was able to stand still for the agonizingly long 30 seconds it took Aiden to walk to his room before immediately sprinting over to the roll of paper towels on the counter and ripping off a wad to wipe up the floor. Anything to keep him from thinking about whatever the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fresh fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> had just almost happened. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Lambert walked into the shop with Aiden ten minutes before opening. He was immediately greeted with a wet towel thrown at his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Where the </b>
  <b>
    <em>fuck</em>
  </b>
  <b> have you been? And why are you wet?</b>
  <span>” Eskel yelled from where he was baking some rugelach in Lambert’s spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert chose to ignore him and instead stared at the rugelach in dismay. “What the fuck have you done to the rugelach? Why does it look like shit? What have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>“Lambert.”</b>
  <span> Eskel strode across the tiny kitchen. </span>
  <b>“Answer my question. Where were you.”</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ooooooo,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt mocked from where he was finishing the pierogies. It was clearly meant to lighten the mood but Lambert knew he’d probably been worried too. </span>
  <b>“Someone’s in trouble.”</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <b> “I was at Aiden’s. He had a sink emergency. I’m fine, I just forgot to text you cause it was 3:30am and he made me drink instant coffee.” </b>
  <span>How had he forgotten to text Eskel? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel smirked at the instant coffee bit, but it had done little to ease the worry around his eyes. </span>
  <b>“It’s fine if you want to hang out with your boyfriend, just let us know next time. We thought you ran away again.”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Fuck no,” </b>
  <span>Lambert barely repressed a shudder, imagining Eskel going to his apartment only to find it empty. How much longer would they have waited to call the cops? </span>
  <b>“I’m not a kid anymore.”</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel clapped him on the shoulder before turning back to the ruined rugelach. </span>
  <b>“Could have fooled me.”</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Rude</b>
  <span>, but what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you do to my rugelach? We can’t sell these!” He poked one with distaste, glaring at Aiden who had had the </span>
  <em>
    <span>audacity</span>
  </em>
  <span> to laugh. This was rugelach. This was serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it's not like you were here to do it, Vesemir is checking inventory, and Geralt’s making pierogies.” Eskel said indignantly. “Someone had to make it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eskel. You cannot bake for </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I told him.” Geralt turned to look at Lambert from where he was finishing making the pierogies. He looked like crap. His usually messy hair was somehow messier than normal - were he and a hair brush even on speaking terms? - and his eyes were vaguely bloodshot . “Why the fuck are you wet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel threw the tray of questionable rugelach onto the counter, eyes moving between Lambert and Aiden as a smile stretched slowly across his face. Had he really missed the part where Lambert had said Aiden had a sink emergency? </span>
  <b>“It’s plenty obvious. These two finally got their shit together because it's clear that </b>
  <b>
    <em>somebody</em>
  </b>
  <b> couldn't keep it in their-”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“ESKEL!” </b>
</p><p>
  <b>“What? Why else would your pants be all soaked?”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Say another word and I’ll make you wish I didn't come in at all today”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“I just hope,” </b>
  <span>Eskel leaned dramatically against the counter, voice sickeningly sweet, </span>
  <b>“that you saved yourself a little snack for later.”</b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt started wheezing with badly concealed laughter. </span>
  <b>“Save it for lunchtime Lambert, and next time you go to your boyfriend’s place, make sure you bring a change of clothes.”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Go fuck yourself, Geralt.” </b>
  <span>Lambert retorted angrily. </span>
  <b>“We didn’t fuck. His sink exploded and I went over to fix it.”</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, so I’m glad you’re having a good time. but what the fuck is going on?” Aiden asked, looking up from downloading duolingo so next time he might at least have a gist of what they were saying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! We were just talking about how Lambert f-” Eskel started, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fixed your sink.” Lambert finished, glaring at Eskel. “That’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden shrugged and put his phone back in his pocket. “Well, it was great seeing you Lam, and thank you for being my snixer, but I have to set up my shop now!” Aiden gave Lambert a hug and walked towards the back door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh and Lam?” He called over his shoulder, “You can keep my shirt if you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Aiden left, Eskel snorted and Geralt raised an eyebrow at Lambert, who was turning an alarming shade of red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare fucking say a word. I have to make a new batch of rugelach because you fucked it up so badly.” If they said one more word he was going to spill that they had almost...kissed. Ugh it felt wrong to think about. And they would tease them relentlessly. The fuckers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eskel. It looks like you shit on a plate. I’m tossing these and making a new batch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not wrong.” Geralt said as he was chopping more onions, and he still wasn’t crying from them. Fucking bastard. How dare he get all the good genes. “I tried to tell you nicely but… it does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert went over to the sink, washed his hands, and went to his station. Rip Geralt but he had to change the subject somehow. “Hey Geralt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt hummed in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like shit. Did you sleep at all last night?” Lambert tried to mask his concern, but he knew it didn’t work. As long as he was focusing on Geralt though he wouldn’t think about Aiden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He slept late and I had to knock on his door to wake him up.” Eskel said, and ignored the bird Geralt flipped his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot to set my alarm. Knee was killing me last night. That’s all.” Geralt grumbled. He was fine. As long as he didn't accidentally cut his finger off, that was. They didn't need a repeat of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to leave early? We can cover you if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Eskel. And anyway I can’t leave until after the lunch rush.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Lambert asked, confused. “We can cover you whenever you need us to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, don’t feel bad about having to go, we understand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking hell.” Geralt threw down the knife after it slid too close to his finger. “Jaskier’s coming in during lunch okay?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And I need to see him to make sure I’m not….that I don't….fuck…. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This was going to be a long day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohhhhh. Ohhhhhhh! Is that why you wanted to run the counter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off Eskel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanted to run the </span>
  <em>
    <span>counter</span>
  </em>
  <span> for him? Whipped much?” Lambert dumped some flour into a bowl, purposefully flinging some at Eskel. Served him fucking right for fucking up the rugelach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up Lambert. You ‘fixed Aiden’s sink’” Geralt put the last part in air quotes. “Instead of coming in on time. If anyone’s whipped it's you. I at least do my damn job. How do you know about him anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, FUCK. Abort mission, abort mission!</span>
  </em>
  <span> “We don’t. You just hate running the counter, and I’m assuming you think he’s hot.” Lambert lied. He’d never been a good liar. Maybe Geralt was too tired to notice? “Who the fuck is he then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen’s friend. He works at Planned Parenthood with her. I promised him pierogies, he's not my friend.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>He also has pretty eyes and pretty tattoos and nice arms and-</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt crushed that train of thought before he accidentally said any of it aloud. He wasn't...like that damnit. He went back to trying not to cut off his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh so a boyfriend then?” Eskel asked innocently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Geralt growled. The word even sounded wrong. “He’s just...somebody.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just like Aiden is somebody.” Lambert said, before realizing the connotations behind what he said. “Wait shit, I meant just as like a friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, the damage had already been done and Geralt suddenly looked very interested in the conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Just a friend.” Eskel snickered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Lambert glared at Eskel before grabbing a cleaning cloth and leaving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel glanced at Geralt and gestured to the table cleaner spray on the counter. “How long do you think it’s going to take him to realize?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not long enough to make a bet.” Geralt said, before going back to his pierogies. “We open in five minutes, Lambert needs to get his shit together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel nodded, Geralt was probably right. He watched as Geralt went back to chopping onions, clearly concentrating harder than he normally did. Had he even slept last night? “Geralt. I was being serious earlier. If you need to leave, we can cover you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I was being serious when I told you to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck off</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s only been what, my whole life? I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Geralt was, in fact, not fine. He was half-asleep during the breakfast rush, and in the space between breakfast and lunch when no one really came in, he had actually fallen asleep. Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir let him nap, knowing he’d wake up if the bell on the door of the deli rang. He had told them that he would only stay through the lunch rush, but the lunch rush had come and gone and there was still no sign of Jaskier. He knew he had been too damn hopeful and stupid to really believe that someone could like him enough to be his friend. Maybe instead of looking at Jaskier’s arms, he should’ve looked in his eyes so he could see the pity in Jaskier’s eyes as he realized Geralt wasn’t worth his time. It happened all the time. He wasn’t surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just deciding whether or not to go home, when the bell to the shop rang, and someone came running in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt!” Geralt loved the way he said his name. “I’m so sorry I’m late, my meeting ran over, I should’ve texted, I’m so sorry, could you ever forgive me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt felt his jaw drop. Jaskier was wearing a suit. And he looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>good.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt tried to keep himself from looking up Jaskier’s body (which was in a totally platonic way, because Geralt wasn’t….like that….), and the way that Jaskier’s pants were tight in all the right places, and now he was taking off his jacket, and throwing it over one arm, and rolling up the sleeves of his blue floral dress shirt, that showed off his tattoos, and the rings on his fingers and his hands. Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His hands. They looked callused, perhaps Jaskier played something like a guitar or something, and Geralt followed his hand to where he brushed his hair out of his face, and Geralt realized that his eyes matched his shirt perfectly, and when Geralt found himself staring at Jaskier’s eyes, until he realized Jaskier had asked him a question, but instead of answering he had been staring like some sort of creep. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. It’s fine.” Geralt replied gruffly. “You want pierogies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oooooh! Yes please! The ones I had yesterday were simply splendid!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. I make them better. My father made those.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Jaskier looked at him confusedly. “I thought you made them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made them but he fried them. I can’t work at the counter and fry pierogies at the same time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Jaskier smacked his palm against his forehead. “I’m an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Jaskier wasn’t an idiot, he was gorgeous. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck no, don't say that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “My brother makes really good rugelach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier had the audacity to actually lean on the counter in front of him. They were barely a foot away. “Ooooh! What’s rug-roog-ruga-</span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a type of pastry. Like a cookie.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don't look at him, look at the register.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is-Is that it?” He pointed to a plate of Eskel’s sorry attempt at pastry that he had left sitting on the register. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Eskel’s attempt at them. He’s a shit baker. I can ask Lambert to bring you out a piece of a real one so you can try it. If you want. I don’t know how to make it. Lambert’s overprotective of his desserts. Clearly,” he gestured at Eskel’s attempt again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you had a brother.” Jaskier tried to pretend that he hadn’t spent two hours asking Yen about Geralt’s personal life the night before, besides he wanted to hear how </span>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt</span>
  </em>
  <span> spoke of his brothers, because although Yennefer was one of his best friends, he had to admit she was a bit judgemental. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier.” Geralt sighed. “This is a family deli. I have two brothers. Eskel’s older than me, and Lambert’s younger. Lambert’s a bitch but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dupek</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Lambert yelled from the kitchen. “</span>
  <b>I’ll bring you and your boyfriend the good rugelach. Only because I think you’ll die if you eat Eskel’s.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Not my boyfriend.”</b>
  <span> Geralt responded, and turned back to Jaskier. “He’s an asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me, but what did he say?” Jaskier asked politely. Maybe he should pick up Polish, it certainly sounded hot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s bringing out rugelach for you.” Geralt turned back to where the kitchen was, and yelled to Lambert. “</span>
  <b>Also I need a plate of Yen’s regular for Jaskier!</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he turned back to Jaskier, Jaskier was frantically typing something on his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I was just texting Yen. She was wondering if I had gotten lost on my way to your deli, which to be quite honest is quite insulting. I mean, she isn’t wrong, but she didn’t have to say it! You know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question or not, and just settled on a hum in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you even know Yen, anyway? To be honest, I wouldn’t expect her to be a frequent visitor to a deli, no offense of course, but I just feel like she is more the type to go to...something.. Uhhh..” he gestured around him vaguely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With fine dining?” Geralt sighed. He was sure there was a rule about talking about exes but whatever. “We dated a few years ago. My daughter set us up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your...daughter?” Jaskier questioned. Yen hadn’t told him that he had a daughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s her name?”Jaskier watched as Geralt’s face lit up. He clearly loved his daughter, and Jaskier felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his heart grow as he watched Geralt pull out his phone to, (Jaskier assumed), show him a picture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri. She’s 18. Goes to Pace University for History and Criminal Justice.” Geralt handed Jaskier his phone, which was open to the home screen. “This is her before her senior prom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The photo was of Geralt, in black jeans and a black and grey plaid shirt - did the man really not own any other colors? Jaskier was going to have to work on that - sitting next to a blonde girl with wickedly sharp eyeliner and hair pulled back into a low bun. She was wearing a black suit with a red tie. They were both laughing at something, and Jaskier almost felt like he was intruding on a private moment. He handed Geralt back his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s a freshman now, I’m assuming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. She loves it there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said she double majors in history and criminal justice, right? That’s got to be one hell of a workload, and that’s coming from someone who went to college for theatre and english.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She complains about it a lot, but as far as I know, she’s not too overworked. She loves learning, and it shows in her work.” Ciri was so much smarter than he’d ever be. Maybe she could help him with his Jaskier predicament….no he shouldn't trouble her with that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s incredible.” Jaskier smiled. “What are her plans after college?” It was a lame question but he just wanted Geralt to talk about his daughter more. He was practically glowing it was so cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She wants to be a lawyer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn. That’s one hell of a goal. If she’s anything like you, she’ll be a great lawyer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt shook his head. What made Jaskier think he’d be a good lawyer? He made pierogies for a living. “She’s better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier smiled. “If you don’t mind me asking, what did you major in at college?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Well…” Shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Way to make him feel terrible, Jaskier.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt shrugged. “Didn’t have the interest.” It wasn’t a complete lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s valid. College isn’t for everyone, besides you have pierogies.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck was that supposed to mean?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. Lambert should be out with the pierogies soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier grinned. “You have to cook me </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> pierogies at some point. I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> to taste your food.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time then.” Geralt promised. Hopefully his knee would be feeling better so he’d be able to stand in front of the stove. He flexed his knee experimentally under the counter and swallowed a wince. Maybe Jaskier would hold off coming in for a few days… “You will have to either wait alone or talk to Lambert or Eskel though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would be delighted to meet your brothers! From what you’ve said they sound lovely!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right on cue, the door to the kitchen opened, and Jaskier froze. The man holding his food and the apparent rugelagh was fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrifying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was wearing all dark clothing, and was somehow taller than Jaskier - and Jaskier was not a short man - and he had scars all down one side of his face and piercings in his eyebrow, nose, and ears. He walked towards Jaskier and passed him his food, all accompanied with a death glare that nearly made Jaskier take a step back. Once he passed Jaskier his pierogies and rugelach, he stood behind Geralt and crossed his (extremely muscles) arms. Half of Geralt wondered whether Geralt was taller than this mysterious brother (because he still somehow hadn't seen him standing) and the other half made a big mental note to not get on Geralt’s bad side.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>“This is Jaskier?” </b>
  <span>Eskel said, continuing to glare at Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed. </span>
  <b>“Stop being an ass.”</b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Which...one of Geralt’s brother’s are you? Eskel or Lambert? I’m Jaskier by the way.” He nervously smiled at Eskel, who looked rather taken back by Jaskier’s apparent willingness to speak to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eskel. Lambert’s an asshole and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re not?” Geralt teased, causing Jaskier to smile wider. He knew he had a soft side. “You’ll know Lambert when you see him. He’s an ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Geralt!” Came Lambert’s response from the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He sounds…. Nice?” Jaskier didn’t want to get on one of Geralt’s brother’s bad side before they even officially met, but he wasn’t quite sure how to react. Wait. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What time was it? Jaskier checked his phone to see the time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He needed to go. Jaskier passed Geralt his credit card to pay for his food. “Geralt, my dear, I am so sorry but I need to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt felt his face heat up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My dear? What the fuck?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Presentation?” He gave Jaskier his receipt, and waited as Jaskier wrote something on it. He could hear Lambert snickering from the kitchen and he could see Eskel trying to hide his laughter from where he was next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Here you go! One of my best ones, if I do say so myself! So sorry to run out but I’m going to be late. See you tomorrow! Nice to meet you, Eskel!” Jaskier blew Geralt a kiss and ran out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel raised an eyebrow at Geralt, who sighed and started to read the note. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you a campfire? Because you’re hot and I want s’more.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt groaned and put his face in his hands to hide the fact that he was blushing. It was even worse than the one yesterday and it still somehow managed to make his stomach flip. Was that normal? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel snatched the receipt from Geralt and started reading. After reading Jaskier’s note, Eskel couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore and read the note to Lambert and Vesemir outloud between hiccups, who by the end were both howling with laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” Geralt grumbled, and carefully stood up, leaning against the counter and grabbing his forearm crutches from where they had been leaning on the counter next to him. “I’m going to work on more pierogies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>As fucking if.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re going home.” Eskel said, putting a gentle hand on Geralt’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt rolled his eyes and continued to go to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt.” Vesemir walked through the door from the kitchen, thus blocking him from making his escape. “Go home. You look dead on your feet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir sighed. “You aren’t. If not for yourself, do it for me. Or your brothers. Or Jaskier. Whoever you’d like. But you’re not allowed to enter the kitchen again until you've gotten some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Lambert said from the kitchen. “Can’t woo lover boy if you pass out from exhaustion and slam your head on the counter. You could get amnesia and forget about him and then we’d be back to square one!” There was a loud sigh. “You need a nap. A long one. With any luck when you wake up you won't be a dense idiot anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Lambert. That wouldn’t happen.” And Jaskier was not his….lover boy. “At least I didn’t get up at 3:30 to fix a fucking sink.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was spraying water everywhere! I couldn’t just ignore him!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir sighed. “Lambert, are you sure you don't love Aiden?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert threw up his hands. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not you too</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m not fucking in love with him! Why would you think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert, once my microwave broke at midnight, and you refused to help me fix it, despite being awake. I know you were sleeping at 3:30, and yet, you helped him.” Eskel said, taking Geralt’s spot at the counter. “You love him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not fucking gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, Lambert. Geralt, what are your thoughts?” He turned to face Geralt, who had propped himself up against the wall to take the weight off of his knee, and looked rather pale. “Geralt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heading home.” Geralt pushed himself off the wall and started to head out, biting back a hiss when he put weight on his knee again. “I’m fine though. Just tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Vesemir sighed, already making a mental note to bring him some soup later. There was no way he’d be up for cooking anything, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. “Let us know if you need anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt hummed in response and left. He had more quizzes to take. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yeah idk how aiden turned out to be a low key sub but oh well. I will never write anything as good as the snixer scene. </p><p>follow us on tumblr:</p><p>saph: <a class="tumblelog" href="https://tmblr.co/mya9AR0Vn-K_MNqp9aKaKgg">@suddenly-im-respecsable</a></p><p>katya:</p><p> </p><p>  <a class="tumblelog" href="https://tmblr.co/mgHhxgtybYODlGc7lsuZpzQ">@toss-a-coin-to-your-lesbian</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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